House of Paper and Wax

7

I waited outside for what seemed like forever, but Max still hadn't come to get me. It was getting cooler as the sun set and sank under the horizon. I didn't have a jacket on, and I started to shiver. I decided to go back inside and wait in the lobby. The warm air swooshed around me as I entered into the automatic doors, and for a slight moment, I felt calmer. The warmth from inside the hospital was such a comforting change from the chill outside, and I plopped down on a cushioned chair next to a window so I could see if Max pulled up. I looked up at the clock above the front desk, and couldn't believe how late it was getting. Max had left over 2 hours ago...
I was too tired to get mad or worried. I didn't have my phone to call him, and I was actually dreading seeing Max again.
I breathed in a slow breath and layed my head back on the chair, and closed my eyes. The air was so warm, the chair so relieving, and I let myself fade into a light sleep.
After a while, I felt a soft tap on my shoulder. It was Max. A much softer expression appeared on his face, and he looked more like himself again. I rubbed my eyes just to make certain I wasn't dreaming.
"Hey." I said, sitting up a little straighter.
"Hey, Kat." Max replied, with a sad look in his eyes. He looked ashamed of himself, but in a strange way, he also looked as if he was happy to see me.
"Max I--" I began, ready to tell him how scared I was to go home with him.
"Babe, stop. You don't have to say anything. It's ok. I'm sorry. I was a real jerk earlier. I was just surprised, and everything else that was going on, well, I panicked, and I took my anger out on you. Babe, I'm so sorry." Max paused and sat in the chair next to me. He brushed a few strands of hair across my face and behind my ear, and smiled sweetly. There's my Max. I thought to myself.
"Let's get you home, so I can make you feel better." Max reached his hand out, and helped me out or the chair.
To be quite honest, I didn't give the spat between Max and I another thought the rest of that evening. Not until it was night, anyway.
It had really turned into a super evening. On the way home, Max let me pick out take out. He joked that I could have whatever I wanted to eat for the next nine months. "After all," he laughed, "you are eating to feed our baby now, too!" When we got home he dropped even more flattering lines about me being pregnant and talking excitedly about our newest news.
We had decided we were going to wait a week before we told anyone. Max had a good way of thinking of it, I thought. "You know, Mama Kat," Max explained, "you and I have waited for a baby for this long, and I think we deserve to have this exciting secret together before everyone else knows and tries to put their two cents in. I mean, we could talk names. Or whatever things people talk about when you're gonna have a baby....We could talk about all the things we want for our baby before everyone in my family comes in and tries to throw their opinions in on stuff. You know?"
The thought did seem romantic and exciting. And so I went along with it, for the most part. I told him we had to pick a day 2 weeks from then because I couldn't hide a secret like that forever.
"You know it would be so much more exciting if we just waited until someone noticed or guessed it though, Kat." Max begged.
"I'll think on it a little more and we will see how long I can stand keeping a secret like this!" I laughed.
Max was the perfect gentleman for the rest of the night. We watched some tv and ate dinner on the couch. He rubbed my legs and feet with lotion and relaxed me for the first time all weekend. It was too bad Monday was the start of the work week. I could have stood for this type of treatment for much longer than those short few hours.
I was absolutely exhausted. I welcomed bedtime a little early, thinking I would fall asleep the moment my head hit the pillow. I layed my head on the cool and crisp white puff, and was certain I would be in dreamland within second's time. I breathed in the fresh scent of the fabric softener and closed my eyes. But the sleep I expected to come so soon, didn't fade in. Instead, my mind began to race again. I Was frustrated because no matter how many times I tried to silence my thoughts, they would refuse to quiet down. Of course, this was normal for me. I've been a night owl for as long as I could remember. I was raised by many generations of the nocturnal kind, so it made total sense that I'd ended up this way. But for people like me, the rest of the world primarily functions during the daytime hours. So if I wanted to make any type of living, I had to wake up early, just Like the rest of the world. It's taken me several years to manage the rush of unorganized thoughts and worries each night. I had found that rather than panic about the lack of sleep I might not get, I would just let my mind race until it couldn't stay focused. If that didn't work, I'd get up and write it all down. If the first plan didn't work, the second always delivered a relieving rest.
It was definitely time for plan A.
I closed my eyes and let my mind wander.
I started to worry about all sorts of things. Was I ready for a baby, was Max... the general things a person might normally consider the first night when finding out about one's own pregnancy. So many of my concerns had to do with Max.
And that's when it hit me.
Why had Max been gone for so long before he finally picked me up from making me wait at the hospital?
When Max had come to get me at the hospital, I hadn't asked him where he had been for those two long hours. It hadn't even crossed my mind. He had me so relived and then got me so excited on the ride home, that I had forgotten to even mention it.
I felt duped. I wondered if he had really meant all the things he had said since we had been home for the evening. Surely not. Max wouldn't fake something like that. Not in a million years. Not about something like that.
I kept trying to reason with myself and come up with something more rational. Maybe he got stuck in traffic on the way into the city. Or, maybe he just needed some time to talk to his Mom. Or, maybe he needed time to just be alone and process all this himself.
But that amount of time just seemed too extreme for any excuse I had come up with.
Something didn't feel right. It was if he had tried to avoid telling me something. Most people usually apologize for taking much longer than expected to pick someone up from somewhere. He was so apologetic about everything else...did he even feel bad that he had left me there at the hospital after fainting!?!
I tossed and turned. I was beginning to get angry. I looked over at Max, who was peacefully snoring in his sleep.
How can he sleep like that with the way he treated me today? And why am I the one still awake about it, when I haven't done anything wrong?
Each snore he took, agitated me more, so I knew it was time to get up and write down some thoughts.
I crept down the stars from our bedroom and into the living room. I turned on the lamp by our desk, and opened the page to the journal I still had out from the night before.
A sudden realization hit as I approached my desk. I left the journal on the bed when I fell asleep the night before. And there it was, set neatly in the center of the living room desk.
Max had moved it. A chill went down my spine, had he read anything in it? This was the most recent journal I had, and there were multiple rants and writings about how angry I sometimes got with Max. He would be crushed if he read some of those things...
I took a deep breath and opened it to the last page I had written. There, in thick red bold writing was a poem I had started about Max:
Ya think you know me, is that right?
Do you know the thoughts inside my head, late late at night?
in the dark?
in our bed?
I've got a little news for you, just so you know,
It is not you who is in my head when my dreams begin to sow.
It is not you, who walks beside me as I fight my nightmares deep into my screaming slumber.
It isn't you who catches me when I blunder.
No, It is not you, who I dream about, sweetie,
It's not you, my baby, don't you see?
No,
I'll tell you who saves me, but it might make you feel so small.
Yes, late, late at night, it's not you who I cling to,
Honestly.
No, not at all.
You're not a hero. You're just another zero.
In my dream, I am always brightly shining solo.
It's never you who saves the day, no, not at all.
The only hero I really need is simply just me.

I gazed over my words and closed the book and clicked off the table lamp. As the blackness of night crept across the room, I could feel a lonely chill surround my entire body. And though it was truly fitting for that exact moment in time, I longed to feel warm and secure, but just like always, the same old familiar feeling of empty swallowed me up and taunted me as I made my way to the bed and went into another deep sleep.